


"And That Makes It Okay?"

by Jack_Wilder



Series: He Was God's Favourite [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Acknowledgement of RAPE!, Always female Sam Wilson, Assassin Bucky Barnes, F/M, Female Sam Wilson, HEED THE FUCKING WARNINGS!!!!, Mention of violent Bucky Barnes, RAPE is mentioned in this fic!!! DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU!!!, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam Wilson Feels, Thoughts of rape., Victim Blaming, marital rape, mention of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 23:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30029742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jack_Wilder/pseuds/Jack_Wilder
Summary: This is not Kansas, and there are no ruby red shoes to get home.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Series: He Was God's Favourite [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943563
Kudos: 6





	"And That Makes It Okay?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jasonslea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasonslea/gifts).



> WARNING: Acknowledgement of Sam's rape by Bucky.
> 
> This takes place during/after 'The Devil Is Beautiful, Because He Is A Fallen Angel'. It is kind of a sequel of sorts. 
> 
> Title and some dialogue in this fic are from "50 Angsty Questions Prompt List" from writerthreads on Instagram
> 
> This is NOT a heartwarming series. It is dark and will feature elements of domestic violence, RAPE, and a somewhat controlling, possessive assassin.
> 
> IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED, PLEASE AVOID THIS SERIES.
> 
> If you see any errors, POLITELY point them out to me.
> 
> I DO NOT own any of the characters in the fic below. This is written purely for the enjoyment of the writer and the reader. No profit is being made from this or any of my other works.
> 
> ENJOY!!!!!

The sun just starting to set when Sam emerged from her room. Bucky was in the kitchen finishing dinner, when she entered, pulling up short at the kitchen door. He knew she was there, thanks to years of experience of having to know if someone aside from himself was in a room, as it was a vital skill to have in his line of work.

Knowing she had not moved, Bucky pasted on a friendly smile and turned to face at her. The look in her dark brown eyes told him everything he had to know; she was _terrified_. Sam wrapped her arms around body, as if that could protect her from him.

Bucky looked her over and saw signs of her being freshly showered. She smelled of lavender, whether it was from her soap or lotion, he did not know, but he liked the scent on her skin. The hair at the nape of her neck was still damp, her hair was still up in a high bun, her usual hair style for showering, and she was dressed in loose fitting plaid sleep pants and a soft looking long-sleeved black shirt with a sheep sleeping on the front of it. He wondered if she had treated her injuries, and made a mental note to ask her, but first things first.

"Did you have a good sleep?" It sounded as if he was asking about the weather, and not the fact that Sam almost slept out the entire day to recover from him raping her the previous night.

The kitchen was silent as Sam stared at him, fear giving way to confusion, as the silence stretched on.

"Well," Bucky decided since she would not speak, he would just have to talk for the two of them. "I made us dinner." He moved aside, to reveal two large and one medium sized bowls on the kitchen island behind him. "You can take a seat at the dining table and I will bring the food over."

Sam looked at the small breakfast table, and Bucky knew what she was thinking.

"A meal like this deserves to be eaten on a grand table." He smiled, but Sam didn't return the gesture.

Instead, she turned and quietly made her way across the hall and into the large dining room. Just like the rest of the penthouse apartment, the dining room felt staged, clinical, _cold_. It was just a place to eat, not to enjoy your food or company. It was there, only to show how rich the owner of the apartment was and nothing else. One set of the walls were floor to ceiling glass, revealing the New York skyline; the windows of the buildings beyond the windows all glittered as the fading sunlight hit them. Sam looked down, the people below, looking like ants, and oh how she desired to be one of them. To be one of those anonymous souls, instead of being up here with a madman. 

She turned to look at the long glass top table that was able to sit twelve people comfortably. There was a snow-white tablecloth covering it, with a vase of fresh..., Sam tilted her head, were those…sunflowers?

That made Sam pause.

The only flowers that were ever used as centre pieces for the table were orchids and white lilies. The sunflowers were new. Not seeing any reason for the change, at least none that came to her immediately, Sam continued her observance of the room, in which she had only set foot in once, noting the two place settings on the table: one at the head and the other to the right. 

With a resigned sigh, Sam sat down in the deceptively comfortable dining table chair, the cushioned seat doing a lot for her bruised body. Fuck! She was still in so much pain but was hungry. She had been praying not to run into Bucky while going to get something to eat, but when had her life ever gone the way she wanted. 

Too soon Bucky came with all three bowls somehow balanced on his arms. He placed them effortlessly on the table, and then looked at Sam, frowning. 

"You should be sitting there." He pointed to the head of the table. "That's your spot."

Sam got up and flinched violently when Bucky went to pull out the chair for her.

"You ok, Samantha?" He tilted his head, and if Sam wasn't sure before, she knew right then and there, that Bucky was fucking crazy.

She sat down, and Bucky arranged the bowls close to them, before sitting down. he watched as Sam eyed the food before her. Shrimp and chicken alfredo in creamy sauce, garlic bread and salad. There was a bottle Pink Moscato wine chilling, and they both had glasses of water. 

"Help yourself." Bucky said, waiting until Sam had taken what she wanted, before serving himself. 

They ate in tense silence for a few minutes. Bucky watching as Sam took small bites of her food. 

"Food not to your liking?" He asked and swore that Sam almost choked on her food when he suddenly broke the silence. 

"It's ok." She mumbled, before continuing to eat.

That grated on his nerves. 

Bucky knew he was a damn good cook; Steve and his other friends for whom he has cooked always praised his skills. Past lovers loved his cooking, and he has poisoned a few marks by cooking and poisoning their food. So, hearing that 'it's ok' from Sam bothered him greatly.

He grabbed his wine glass and poured himself some wine, drinking it in one go before pouring himself another glass. Sam was watching him, and he gestured to the bottle.

"Would you like some?" 

She shook her head and went back to eating. Bucky shrugged and did the same. 

"How was your day?" He asked, disturbing the silence once more. "What did you do?"

Sam looked at him with vitriol plainly seen in her expression. She placed down her fork and leaned back in her seat. Finally. _Finally,_ she was _looking_ at him and not just seeing him. 

"I _slept_." She spat. "For the entire day I slept, because I am in pain, you fucking rapist."

Bucky shrugged, nonchalantly taking up his wine glass, which was slapped out of his hand by Sam, it shattered loudly in the otherwise quiet room, and his gaze coolly moved from the mess on the floor to Sam who was standing, her face contorted in anger.

"What the fuck is this?" She demanded.

"Dinner."

His eyes glanced down to Sam's clenched fists, before finding her eyes once more. 

"Do not play games with me, Barnes." 

He could tell that she wanted to throttle him. And it would be rather fun to have her attempt to fight him again. 

"I am not playing games, Samantha." He remained calm. She was angry and had every right to be so. It would not do them any good if he got angry as well; they both knew how violent he could be when angry. "I am trying to apologise for what happened last night."

He saw Sam's right eye twitch, before a look a disbelief crossed her face.

"Jesus motherfucking Christ,” it suddenly dawned on her, “the food, the flowers that just happen to be my favourite, your behaviour." A hysterical laugh escaped her. "You're trying to apologise for _raping_ me?" Sam covered her face, laughing hysterically, and Bucky thought he had broken her. "You're trying to apologise." 

Her laughter died down and there was a moment of silence before Sam exploded, swiping her hand across the table, sending her plate, and the bowls crashing to the marble floor where they shattered just like the wine glass.

"You fucking RAPED me, you asshole!" Sam screamed, "and you want to apologise with dinner and flowers?" She bypassed the mess on the floor, grabbed the vase and threw it at the solid wall, the vase exploding in a shower of water, crystal shards and flowers. 

All the while Bucky watched her with detached interest. "Are you satisfied now?"

Sam whirled on him. "What?"

He slowly rose from his seat, surveying the damage that had been done in a few short seconds. "I asked if you were satisfied now. It seemed like you needed to get whatever this is," he lazily gestured at the mess, "out of your system." 

The way in which Sam was looking at him, made Bucky well aware of what she thought of him: asshole, monster, murderer, _rapist_ and whatever else there was to call him, he was it all.

"You," Sam didn't know whether to scream or cry. "You are a shit-stain upon society, and you need to die."

"You wound me, Sam." He mocked her, watching as her face again contorted into an unholy expression of anger. "If people heard you talking like that, they would think that you do not like me."

"You _raped_ me." 

Oh, he knew damn well what he had done to her. He can see the very physical evidence on her beautiful dark skin, in the way she was walking, holding herself; saw it with how fear was warring with anger in her eyes when she looked at him. 

"You violated me, in one of the cruellest ways possible, and you think that you can apologise for it?" The disbelief was clear in her voice. "You hurt me."

Bucky stuck his hands in his pockets, looking the least bit affected by Sam's words. "You were given a choice, Sam. I told you, that you had to power to not make me a rapist."

Sam reared back as if he had physically struck her. "And that makes it okay?" A sob escaped her. "Because, I fought back, because I tried to protect myself, you're saying that it was okay for you to rape me."

Bucky remained silent, staring her down and having had enough, Sam turned on her heels and walked away, a noticeable limp in her step, Bucky followed behind her at a sedate pace. He watched as she climbed the stairs, presumably going to her bedroom, her _safe haven._

"Sam," she stopped walking, but did not turn around, that was fine with Bucky as he knew he had her attention. "Just a reminder that you are expected to be in _our_ bed tonight." His sharp eyes watched as her shoulders tensed and she continued walking up the stairs, the door to her bedroom slamming shut. He made a mental note to have her bed removed from the room; it could be turned into an office, a study space for her, no need for a bed.

"Well, that could have gone better." Sighing, Bucky went to the broom closet and retrieved supplies to clean up the mess in the dining room. 

As he cleaned, he replayed the events of their dinner.

It should not have gone like that.

Sam should have been relieved to see that Bucky was making an effort to right a wrong. Instead, she had gotten upset, and he would admit that it had taken everything in him to not grab and bend her over the table, and take her again, to show Sam to whom she belonged for the rest of her life. 

It was late when Bucky returned to their bedroom, not surprised that Sam was there, curled up on her side on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. He knew she was not sleeping but allowed her the comfort of making him think that she was. He went to the bathroom and stripped, taking a hot shower before turning in for bed. So, as not to traumatise Sam for the second night in a row, Bucky donned a pair of boxer-briefs. 

He settled on his side, facing away from Sam, and facing the closed bedroom door, a gun in his bedside drawer, and a knife under his pillow. 

"Good night." Bucky did not expect a response, and so closed his eyes. He also did not expect to feel the bed shift, his eyes snapping back open as Sam turned slightly to face him.

"How do you think this ends?"

Bucky turned to look at her, seeing her outline as his eyes adjusted to the dark. "What?"

"This," that word alone seemed to encompass their entire situation. "How you see it ending?"

He laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling, long enough for Sam to huff in annoyance and roll back over. 

"Honestly? I have no idea." Sam snorted. "I only know that you will be by my side until the end."

"There won't be any Stockholm on my part."

Bucky chuckled, looking at her back, "I do not expect anything of the sort from you." He grinned, even though she could not see it. “I expect you to fight me until the end, Sam."

The next morning, Sam found a diamond tennis bracelet on the bedside table, a card with her name attached to it. The bracelet and the velvet box in which it came were promptly hurled into the wall.


End file.
